Thursday, February 28, 2013

Tonight was the first and most likely not the last time you broke a girls heart. My heart.
Since you've been born we have had a unique connection. In a way I have always felt like you were sent here for me. We have jokingly called you "my barnacle" or "mamas boy" but secretly I have always loved your unwavering affection for me. There is something about the way you put your arms around my neck and give me a squeeze or your wet slobbery kisses. I have always relished being the only one able to comfort you. For almost a year I was the only one who really fed you, put you to bed. because of nursing we spent a lot of time together. Wherever I go you go and that's way it has always been... Until now.
Tonight, was like any other night. I started to put you to bed and that's when it started. You scram and called for your daddy. I tried to hold and snuggle you against my chest and sing our nightly songs and you pushed me away. Your looks of disinterest tore through my heart. What happened? I have always been your moon and stars and tonight I was clearly just mom and you wanted dad.
I know it's silly to feel so broken over a toddlers bipolar decision of which parent was his favorite tonight. But I am. It was a change in the tide. My baby is growing up. You are growing up and I'm going to have to accept that, but it's hard. Your babyhood has been so wonderful and I have loved every moment of it. I'm sad to see it go.

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Dear finley,
Last years Fourth of July you were nothing but a wee little babe straight from my tummy. I was so eager to show my perfect little son off to anyone who would look. Last year I was definitely postpartum; healing from giving birth only a week or so before. I had thrush that burned like stinging nettle as I nursed you and mastitis that made me ache to my bones. However, I was bound and determined to enjoy our first holiday together so we went to my moms annual eagle wood fireworks party. I nursed you in my childhood room as the fireworks lit up the sky just outside my window. it wasn't the perfect Fourth of July but it was pretty perfect holding you. That night I got the stomach flu. I had to sleep on daddy's side of the bed because it was closer to the bathroom. Daddy slept near me and woke to put my hungry babe against my chest as I tried to feed you and sleep. The days that followed were just as trying. My thrush worsened and you ended up in primary children's.

This year I had high hopes that things would be different. I imagined you sitting in my lap as we gazed up at the night sky filled with sparks of color. I imagined the look of wonderment in your eyes as you witnessed fireworks for the first time. Your chubby hands clapping together with excitement. Unfortunately, the firework gazing will have to wait till next year. As I took your temperature tonight I was stunned to see the numbers 105.3 appear on the thermometer screen. Worry struck my heart and your daddy and I spent the majority of the evening soaking you with cool cloths. I wish I could take your pain away. I'd gladly be sick again this year if it meant I wouldn't have to look into your red, wet eyes.

I found that since having children it is customary that things never go as planned. You just have to learn to roll with the punches and enjoy the small things. Maybe next year will be better, maybe it won't but I know it will be wonderful as long as your daddy and I have you and your sister.

Monday, July 2, 2012

The night you were born was one of the best of my entire life. Bringing you into this world made me believe that I really can do anything and it solidified the creeping suspicion in my heart that the reason God put me on this earth was to be a mother. With you in one arm, and Genevieve in the other, I looked down at you both and felt for the first time that I had my answers. There was no more wondering who I would become or what my legacy would be. I was made to nurture and love you and I will spend the rest of my life doing it to the best of my ability.

Your first twelve months of life have not been without challenges. Together we have battled the hardships of breast feeding. With sores, and thrush, 17 cases of mastitis and a trip to the ER for mama you have been patient through it all. You have endured your own trauma. In your first two weeks of life you spent four scary days at Primary Children's while mama slept by your side and another trip to the ER two weeks later. Thankfully, we had each other, daddy and Genevieve to help us get through these trials and although your first year of life has been challenging I wouldn't have it any other way. This past year has taught me patience. Patience with myself, with my role as a mother, with my body and with God's plans for us.

I know that what lies ahead of you is so great that my heart nearly burst with anticipation for your future. There is an indescribable wonderness to your spirit. I try daily to put words around it. There is just something about you. A tangible peace. A soulful joy. These days, I watch as you are putting together what you know of the world. Yesterday I watched as you carefully watched your sister and tried to imitate her every move. On a daily basis I catch you studying her so intently. Trying ever so hard to talk and move as she does. At night when you are close to sleep, you hum ever so quietly as I blow in your eyes so you will give into sleep. It has become our ritual, the familiar warmth of your body curled up in my arms, our eyes meeting one last time while your little eye lashes flutter slowly, as you fall away to dream.

Finley, my darling. I never anticipated that you, my sweet, blue eyed, little boy would knock me back down to my foundation. That I would have to learn everything differently and all over again. That parenting you would force me to re-evaluate and redefine everything I thought I knew about love and patience and being a mother. Everything about you has been unexpected and wondrous.

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Weaning... something I have been debating since my first case of mastitis. even saying the word brings up many mixed emotions.feelings of excitement, anticipation, relief but also those of loss. Now that you and I are nearing the finish I can't help but feel so melancholy that this part in our journey together is over. This small sacred little part in our lives is coming to a close and although I know with one chapter closing another one opens, I also know in just mere months the sweet and small little moments we share together now will be a mere memory and replaced with new and different moments.
Sometimes I wish I had a shelf. A shelf tall and wide filled to the brim with jars, each holding a memory or feeling I so desperately long to hold onto. Even now it's hard to remember the exact feeling of the weight of your tiny body against my chest, or your small new born cry. It's funny how time seems to slowly erase the past, leaving you with only a faded memory if you're lucky to remember at all. I've said this many times before, I hope when I return to heaven all my memories will be fully restored, minus the unhappy ones. There I'll bask in the catalog of hugs, kisses, smiles and smells that made up my life. the memory of holding my soft slippery newborn babes will be as if it happened just moments ago. so until that day I will continue to write and preserve these moments, however small or monumental I wish to be able to look back and remember you once sported one small snaggle tooth or giggled when I tickled the spot right underneath your chin.

Yes, this time together is coming to a close and although it breaks my mama heart it just means we are about to enter a different stage in our lives. not good or bad just different.
Mom

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Another month has come and gone and you are that much older. You are so close to taking off on those chubby hands and knees... it's maybe days now until you are fast and mobile. For now you get around by army crawling, dragging your body as quick as you can across the floor. This month you have sprouted three new teeth. Two are still just barely hidden under your gums, almost ready to pop out. So, it's safe to say that you have four little teeth, two on top and two on bottom. I quickly figured this out after getting bitten a few times.

You are as lovely as ever. Sweet and mild, with eyes that would melt the coldest heart. You have quickly adjusted to solids and we are now getting closer and closer to those final days of nursing. It is bitter sweet but so wonderful to think of having my body back to normal. We are now teaching you how to sign and you have quickly caught on by signing "milk." Now you concentrate while staring at your hand open and close, trying ever so hard to get your message across.

Finley my dear, you are still so quick to smile and slow to cry. It takes a lot of genevieve's hitting and pounding before you cry out for help. However, unlike your sister you are quite cautious and leery of strangers and loud noises (besides those of your sisters). Your leeriness of strangers seems to be more prevalent within our home. When any guests come you frantically look my way and softly cry, panicked I might leave you or that the stranger might pick you up. Hopefully, this is just a stage and you will soon out grow it. We are in unfamiliar territory because your sister is, and has always been, extremely social and willing to smile and go to anyone. It's ok my sweet boy, we'll take it one step at a time.

Genevieve has always been her daddy's little girl. From the moment she arrived there was a connection between the two that I could not penetrate. I loved watching their relationship grow but couldn't help feeling a little like the third wheel when it came to the two of them. So, when I found out I was pregnant with you I wished and prayed for a mama's boy. A baby who would cuddle and hold on tight. One that was independent enough to play alone but cried and longed for his mama when she would leave. My wish came true. You are all of that and much more. When I leave you are fine to see me go but as soon as I return, the moment you hear my voice you quickly turn on the tears and reach for me. Really, what more could a mother want.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

I cannot tell you enough times how lucky I am to have you. After your sister was born I was eager and ready to have another baby. I just knew there was another soul up there anxiously awaiting to come down, your dad thought I was crazy but we both agreed that there definitely was someone very persistent.... we thought it was another little girl. I am so glad we were wrong.

You are the sweetest most mellow soul. Your uncles have said they had a pet rock harder to take care of than you. I'd have to agree, you are very unique.

This month you have mastered the art of sitting up, your sister is absolutely thrilled. You just adore Genevieve and try to keep up with everything she does. I think it is safe to say she pretty much thinks you are the cats meow too. It is so amazing to see your relationship develop. Just the other day you were sitting on your bum in the midst of hundreds of toys while Genevieve carefully showed you her "map", a manual for a toy. Both of you were enthralled with each other. Those are the moments I wish I could capture in a bottle and store them safely on a shelf.

Besides sitting up, you are talking too. Lots of "ya ya ya" and "da da da" You still aren't quite sure about solids, you still remain partial to the boob, dad says he doesn't blame you. I will keep working on it. You have to stop nursing someday, you can't take me with you to college.

Again, I love, love, love you my dear boy. Another month down, I'm anxious to see what month seven brings.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

It has proven to be more difficult than first anticipated to write you letters and take pictures every month. Two babies are keeping me quite busy and before I know it another month has gone by and you are that much older. I'm sorry I missed four months and this letter is coming right before you turn six months but nonetheless I love you and my how you have been growing.

From the beginning you have been a quiet little one. Your cries are soft and deep however, this month you found your voice. Now you can be heard from downstairs while you wail in your crib. Thankfully, you cry very seldom. You are the most happy and content little boy, always quick to smile and easy to laugh. Being twenty months younger than your sister is challenging for all of us but you take everything with a smile, even bonks and scratches on your nogin. You are getting closer and closer to sitting up, on your own, without my supervision which thrills your sister, she now has a friend to get on the ground and play with. You can use your hands like a pro and everything is grabbed at and if successful goes straight into your mouth. You sleep from 7:30 to 8:00 every night and take two or three naps a day. I am not as strict with your schedule as I had to be with Genevieve. You are so easy going that it isn't necessary to enforce a bunch of rules and schedules on you, so I have learned to go with the flow, just like you do.

I am always surprised at how big you are getting. The time is passing so much more quickly then it did when your sister was a wee one. I am amazed when I find you sitting up by yourself or playing with toys, I still feel like you are just a newborn, but those days are quickly becoming ancient history. I always say when I die all my memories will be fully restored to me and I will remember every smile, every giggle, the smell of your head after a bath, the way your slobber feels on my shoulder... every single detail will come flooding back, that is my heaven and I hope I'm right.

Finley, your sister made me a mother and you have made me a better person. After welcoming you into this world my patience has grown, my selfishness has diminshed and I have never been happier than I am to snuggle both my babies. Although you are still small you have given me perspective, you have shown me what is really important, you have taught me patience and you have made my heart grow a hundred fold. I love you, I love you, I love you my sweet boy.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Two months and a life time ago you were born on a perfect June evening. I can't believe it has only been two months, your dad and I really can't remember life without you. Who were we before you? What did our family even feel like? It's hard to remember. You have filled our home with lots of love and noise. Your sweet coos are heard throughout the house and your tiny cry echos in every room. Your days are getting longer and your nights are mostly restful, sometimes you will cry out just before five and want a binky and a kiss before you drift back to sleep. Most of the time I don't mind it. You are our blue eyed boy. From the moment those little eyes opened they were blue as the sky, sparkly and reflective. We only hope they grow bluer with age. Just as your eyes change so do you. It is such a tug of war on my mama heart. I so look forward to seeing you grow and celebrate each new milestone but I miss all the stages you are beginning to grow out of, my newborn is now a baby. And with that in mind I will try to relish in each little sneeze, coo, cuddle and tearful cry and try to remember every detail.